A screen door at the ranch house slammed shut, and they both turned toward the sound. Dale Jennings strode toward Kerney, one hand grasping a large coffee thermos and the other hand juggling three mugs. Dale put his load down on the hood of the truck and bear-hugged Kerney.
'I didn't think anything would ever get you back here,' he announced, grinning affectionately as he released Kerney from his grasp. Kerney grinned back.
'Strange things can happen. Thanks for doing all this.' He gestured at the waiting horses.
'Nothing to it. Coffee?' he asked Sara, as she stepped out of the truck. Kerney broke in.
'I'm forgetting my manners.
Dale Jennings, this is Sara Brannon.'
'Ma'am,' Jennings acknowledged, picking up a mug and holding it out to her. Dale Jennings was in his forties, maybe an inch under six feet tall, dressed in work boots, a western shirt, a goose-down vest, and faded blue jeans, topped off by a cap with a feed store logo. His eyes were widely spaced under a long forehead. His mouth seemed set in a permanent smile.
'I'd love some coffee, Mr. Jennings,' Sara answered, taking the mug.
She watched Dale pour it carefully, so as not to spill a drop, thinking she had been too long away from home and the company of people like Dale Jennings.
'The name's Dale,' he said as he finished.
'Call me Sara,' she replied, unable to contain a smile. The coffee smelled wonderful. Dale repeated the ritual with Kerney, then poured a mug for himself, and together all three watched the sunlight spread into the canyon, the warm mugs cupped in their hands, the coffee quietly sipped and savored. Kerney broke the pleasant silence.
'Where are Barbara and the girls?'
'In town,' Dale responded. 'I'm a bachelor during the week. Both girls are in high school now. You know how that goes. They can't stand to miss any of the socializing and such. Barbara's renting an apartment and working part-time at the flower shop.' He put his mug on the top of a fence post and leaned against the railing. He caught Sara's eye, then tilted his head at Kerney.
'The only time we see this fellow is when I take my family up to visit. We use him as a tour guide to show us nouveau riche Santa Fe and all those fancy places we can't afford.' Kerney, looking up the mountain behind the ranch house, wasn't paying attention.
'Can you get Sara saddled up, Dale?' he asked.
'Sure thing.'
'I won't be long,' Kerney said, walking in the direction of a glen behind the house. Dale watched Sara's questioning eyes follow Kerney until he disappeared behind the house. He waited for her to speak.
Instead, she gave him an uncertain smile.
'His parents are buried up in the grove,' Dale explained. 'He's never been back since the funeral. I watched him dig the graves myself. Wouldn't let anybody help him. Took him all day and into the night. He really loved his folks. His grandfather is buried with them, along with my parents.'
'I know what happened,' Sara said, trying to think of something to add.
Dale saved her from the struggle. 'Then you know it was a damn shame. He didn't say a word; didn't cry- nothing. He put his Army medals in the graves before we covered the caskets.'
'Why did he do that?' Dale shook his head.
'Can't say for sure. He wrote me a couple of letters from Vietnam. Said the only thing keeping him going was the thought of getting back home. With his parents dead and all, I guess he figured he didn't have a home anymore.'
'He couldn't stay?'
'Hell yes, he could stay. I wanted to take him on as a full partner, but he wouldn't hear of it. He left the morning after the funeral. This is the first time he's been back.'
'How sad,' Sara said. Dale shook his head in agreement and changed the subject.
'Tell me about this trail ride you're taking.'
'It's best that I don't,' Sara responded. Dale laughed.
'That can only mean one thing. Kerney's taking you onto the missile range.'
'Is that so?' she asked, unwilling to admit the truth.
'Hell, it was our favorite sport when we were growing up. I've bragged on it so much over the years, now my girls do it and give me grief when I crab at them to stop. It's gotten to be like a tradition.' He pointed up the dirt road running past the ranch to the outline of a white sign by a cedar-post gate.
'There it is. White Sands Missile Range. Halfa mile away. The start of Rhodes Pass. It's our backyard.'
'Did you and Kerney ever get caught?' Sara asked.
'Not once. Fifty-three hundred square miles is a lot of territory to protect. You'd have to put the whole damn Army inside the Tularosa to seal it off completely.
'Hell, we even used to try and get ourselves caught. Once in a while we'd let them Army boys catch a glimpse of us just to make the game more exciting, hoping they'd chase after us. I think they knew who we were and decided it wasn't worth the effort. There are ways into the range from here I bet the military have never figured out.' He opened the gate, stepped inside the corral, and reached for a saddle blanket.
'I think the mare will do you.' The mare stood passively, head lowered, while the gelding skittered away, spooked by Dale's sudden presence.
'What's the terrain like?' Sara inquired, unconvinced. Dale had the blanket in one hand and a saddle in the other, ready to cinch up the mare.
'Rough country. The mare's surefooted. You'll need that, especially in the mountains.'
'She's slow, I bet,' Sara countered, 'and won't keep up with the bay.'
She climbed the railing and joined Dale in the corral. She took the bridle off the fence post.
'I'll try the gelding,' she announced.
'That's no horse for a lady,' Dale said.
'Maybe I'm no lady,' Sara said, picking up the bridle. She cornered the gelding and put the bit in his mouth, talking to him softly. When he took the bit, she worked her hand down his neck until he stopped snorting and put his ears forward. Still talking, she reached up for his mane and vaulted easily onto the gelding's back. The gelding trembled, bent his hindquarters almost to the ground, and started a counterclockwise spin. Sara leaned into the movement, her head low against the gelding's neck. After six rotations, the horse stopped twisting and settled into a mild canter around the fence perimeter. It had a comfortable, smooth gait.
'He likes to turn to the left,' Dale allowed, pleased at the sight of a good rider. Sara patted the neck of the gelding and slid to the ground.
'He'll match the bay,' she predicted.
'That he will,' Dale agreed, walking to her with the saddle and blanket.
They saddled the gelding and loaded the gear on the swayback roan. From the looks of it, Kerney had brought all of the essentials for the journey and then some. He rejoined them as they were finishing up.
'The lady can ride,' Dale remarked as he opened the gate to let the small caravan out of the corral.
'I'm not surprised,' Kerney replied. He lifted his head toward Rhodes Canyon.
'Does the pass get much use?'
'Three vehicles a week is a traffic jam,' Dale joked.
'Any regulars?'
'Military police. State Game and Fish. Some Bureau of Land Management types.'
'Any one in there now?' Kerney asked, walking his horse to the dirt road. He stopped and mounted the bay. Sara was already astride the gelding. Dale nodded.
'Eppi Gutierrez went in yesterday. Manages the bighorn herd for Game and Fish. Should be back out in a day or two. How are you going in?' Kerney looked down at his boyhood friend and winked.
'Washout Gap, if it's still open.'
'The worst trail in,' Dale declared. 'Why that one?'
'We're going to Indian Wells first,' Kerney explained.
'Well, that's the shortest way.' His hand ran down the withers of the bay.
'We'll be back no later than tomorrow morning, early,' Kerney told his friend.
'I'll be looking for you.' Dale moved his hand to the bridle to hold Kerney back. His voice dropped to a
